


Skintight

by sunshinekat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of that worm episode where Coran legit was going to go ham on Shiro and kidnap him, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13447065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinekat/pseuds/sunshinekat
Summary: Shiro says something snarky, Coran crosses the line, and Shiro finds that he actually likes that kind of thing.





	Skintight

Shiro smirked, “I thought you liked me in tight shirts.” Coran turns before Shiro can see the heat warm his face. He meant it in good humor, regardless of the unpleasant memories it woke. Coran wanted to face it with the same amount of humor, but Shiro was wearing that damn shirt, and it was tight, very tight. Under the influence of the worm Coran was ready to do away with Allura and the others, but Shiro, Shiro had to stay. He hadn’t been certain as to why; the worm hadn’t revealed that to him. It had only forced him to face the level of possession that he felt for the paladins, to an almost uncomfortable level. The memory of that feeling, obsession, greed, and the pleasure he felt at watching them out there, at the crazed reactions of the crowd. The glee he felt at being the one they came back to at the end of each performance.

“Hey, you okay?” Shiro touched his shoulder, “I’m sorry…I know it might not have been a good experience for you.”

Coran shrugged off his hand, “I’m fine. It’s…embarrassing really, my behavior was completely abnormal.”

Shiro gave him a patient smile, “You didn’t need the worm for that you know…” he said, moving around Coran to look at him, “Caffeine would give you the same rush.”

Coran looked at Shiro, tall and handsome, a fighter’s body, the poise of a leader. That charming shock of white hair and the frustrating way it curled around his forehead. God, he’d been mocking the crowd for their obsession, he was just as bad. His fingers itched to touch Shiro, he couldn’t blame the worm for that.

“I probably shouldn’t have any then, I’d hate to try and kidnap you again.” Coran smiled to make it a joke, but inside he felt that tiny pinch of darkness, of intent. The idea of having Shiro all to himself was all too tempting.

Shiro smirked, “Like you’d be able to pull it off.”

Coran huffed and crossed his arms, a little put off that he was so easily dismissed, a tiny voice in the back of his head told him to stop while he was ahead. “I assure you I would, I’ve been around the block little boy, I know how to take someone down.”

Shiro’s smirk widened, “Oh?” he moved closer to Coran until Coran’s back was against the wall and he leaned one hand against the wall by Coran’s head. “Don’t need a worm to give you any more advice?”

“I fought it more wars than you have teeth, Shiro, you wouldn’t be a challenge.” He may be a few inches taller, he may have youth on his side but Coran didn’t doubt he could fell the boy the second he got attitude. Coran was caught off guard by him however, Shiro was never this smug, never this…aggressive. It made his blood boil. “I have to admit,” Shiro said, “I thought you were harmless, like a glorified nanny.”

That got him; all sense went out the window for Coran. For Shiro to challenge him like this, to shame him in such a way- he grabbed Shiro by the wrist of his human hand and twisted it painfully until Shiro was against the wall, gasping in pain, Shiro’s eyes narrowed and he moved fast. Coran was ready, and he didn’t bother to block Shiro’s metal arm, instead he grabbed him where metal met flesh and pressed on the pressure points he installed for when repairs were needed. The arm fell uselessly from Shiro’s body it’s curled fist inches from Coran’s ribs. Shiro’s good hand was still twisted, and Coran’s other free hand gripped his throat. “I was fighting before you were walking, _human_.”

Inside Coran was worried, he liked being the soft one, the one that gave them a home instead of a cold, metal castle in space. He wanted them to have a haven because he knew what it was like when you didn’t get one. He never let Allura see this side of him, hell her father was the only one who ever knew of it, who after knowing it existed demanded it put to use. Without him here, there was nobody who knew of the things Coran had done. And now here he was pressing his fingers into the soft parts of the Voltron leader’s windpipe. Shiro’s eyes were narrow, the smirk on his mouth was gone, and there was no mocking talk of worms now. There was no kindness in those dark eyes now, instead there was a man reliving the many times he’s had his life in someone else’s hands. Their gazes met and Shiro’s eyes flashed, he looked away, a flush crawling up his cheeks and forehead. He was trembling, his breaths coming out in short; delicate shudders, his hips twitched and Coran felt something against his hip, something distinct and not too unfamiliar. After all, while what he knew about humans was mainly self-taught, it was thorough. Coran was still waiting for an answer, for Shiro to apologize, here, now, in this dark hallway with his tight fucking shirt with his cock straining through his pants. “Let me go,” Shiro whispered, he resisted, pressing into the grip on his throat, “You’ve made your point.” Coran wanted nothing more than to let him go, but that tiny voice in his head had started screaming at him, to take, to ravage, to devour.

He let Shiro go, stepped away quickly, “Shiro, I’m so sorry!” he said, “I wasn’t thinking.” Seeing Shiro now, lying slack against the wall, his arm missing, his human hand on his throat and his cock pressing against the tight material of his pants. Coran was staring, he had that shirt on, it clung to all the right places on the man, how could he not stare?

“Guess this means you can kidnap me after all.” Shiro said under his breath, he knelt down to pick up his arm from the floor. Coran didn’t know what kind of expression he was wearing, but when Shiro stood back up and installed his arm with a quick press and turn he blushed and looked away. “This is the part where you say you were kidding, Coran.” Coran wasn’t so sure anymore, about any of it, blaming the worm was probably the easiest answer, it wasn’t him, it was the worm.

“I think there is a more…important question that needs to be asked…” he said softly, starting to close the distance between them, “I’ve already proven that I can defeat you, Shiro,” he said, “I’m sure you would put up quite the fight…” he touched Shiro without thinking, his eyes lingering on the red marks he’d left on the human’s throat. “But would you?” his fingers slid along Shiro’s hip, sliding slowly toward the imprint of his cock, which had not softened in the least. He heard Shiro’s breath quicken, “I’m asking because I am getting the distinct impression that you…” They were inches apart, and it wasn’t Shiro’s neck he was looking at, and it wasn’t Shiro’s hip he was touching, not anymore. Shiro grabbed his arms, but he didn’t push, he didn’t pull, he just stared, he sagged against the wall when Coran’s fingers slipped into the front of his pants. Shiro kissed him, softly at first, and Coran pushed one leg between Shiro’s thighs and Shiro let him. He tangled his fingers in Coran’s bright orange hair, seizing his mouth, pushing against him, his hips moving in rhythm with Coran’s hand. Coran stopped thinking for the moment, started taking action, remembering through instinct what he’d learned about humans. Like him, Shiro’s body was taking his actions as those of a female wanting to breed. But neither of them was female, that was plainly obvious, a few more strokes of his anatomy and he would ejaculate.

Coran knew this and that was his immediate goal. However he forced himself to slow down, he wanted to see the other signs of climax in action, the sweating, the moaning, the shaking. Shiro was showing signs of sweat; Coran’s arm was sliding easily against his naked stomach, that lovely shirt riding up and showing some more of his skin. Shiro was making soft sounds, muffled by the press of their mouths. His trembling hips were moving in time with Coran’s grasp, the urgency of his need was showing in the twitch of his muscles, in the quickness of his breath, the arch in his back.

“Coran!” Shiro gasped, he’d pulled away from the kiss to push one hand between them, to find its way in between Coran’s legs, he would find an organ there of course, Alteans weren’t human, but they were similar. Shiro’s warm fingers slid along the surface of that organ, “Just let me…” he gasped, his reaction was delicious, the surprise in his handsome face, the way he bit his lip. He slid his hand lower, pushing his fingers elsewhere. Coran was caught off guard then, he was still the one in control wasn’t he? The press of Shiro’s fingers into his body was unexpected.

The human couldn’t have known what he was doing, couldn’t have even suspected, what did he know of Altean anatomy? Sure, they’d evolved to not need to couple like this; they’d gone straight to growing each other in pods and marrying for emotional purposes. But their physical nature had not changed that much, and Coran’s needs, the physical ones had been retired, or so he’d thought. The males of their species had the ability to couple with other males, it wasn’t productive in the least, but it was highly enjoyable. “Shiro!” Coran choked, his steady rhythm hiccuped, his whole body twitched, Shiro’s fingers inside of him were like an electric shock. Coran’s hand slid from Shiro’s cock and up his stomach, he couldn’t keep up, his body was betraying him, “Shiro…Shiro-“ he wanted to tell him to wait, to slow down, but his fingers were already knuckle deep, Coran’s body twitching and squeezing around them. Shiro’s breaths deepened, “Oh…Oh my god, Coran.” Shiro held Coran gently, slowly lowering them to the cold, hall way floor. Coran was trying to think rationally, to regain control of the situation but his body wouldn’t listen, when he reached up to pushed Shiro away his hands slid against his shirt pushing it up and revealing that delicious muscled stomach and chest. He tried to turn away from those intruding fingers, to get away, but instead his thighs parted, to make space for Shiro to fit between them. Shiro was above him, pulling the zipper of his uniform and opening his shirt. Shiro pulled his fingers from Coran’s body and out of his pants; he curled his fingers under the waist band of Coran’s pants and pulled them over his hips revealing his naked body to the cold air. Neither of them was thinking rationally, Coran stopped thinking about escape when Shiro slid his own pants over his powerful thighs at that point; he was pushing up on his elbows to hoist his hips a little higher, a little closer to that human anatomy he wanted to feel inside of him. “Oh, quiznak,” Coran hissed, “Put it in me.”

Shiro smirked at him, infuriating human. But he listened, he grabbed Coran’s hips and positioned his cock against Coran’s opening, it was hard at first, Coran’s body not familiar with this kind of contact so soon, Coran himself biting his knuckle, it wasn’t painful, it was frustrating, and Shiro was a little too patient for his liking, a little too kind. What it took was Shiro looking at him, one moment he was watching his own cock pressing against Coran, and the next he was looking right at Coran, with his fucking hair in his face, his cheeks flushed, looking just like he did when he came back from a fight. Coran’s body twitched just a little but it was enough and he slid right in, the sound leaving Shiro’s mouth was one of surprise, and intense pleasure. Coran moaned, but it was soft, strangled, and not in the least comparable to the intensity rushing through his body.

Coran didn’t have a clear concept of anything after that point, his senses and consciousness was focused on one point, on Shiro’s body, on the press of him, the length and girth of him, the heat of his body. A reason why this practice while pleasurable, had been abandoned, to lose one’s focus like this was not at all productive, especially if done with someone untrustworthy. Shiro’s trustworthiness however, was not something Coran was thinking about, his main thought at this point was to cum, and to make Shiro do the same. Preferably at the same time. Their bodies moved in unison to a rhythm that all living beings shared. They may be different species, human and Altean, but this was something they both knew. Coran had lost all sense of where he was, all he knew was Shiro’s hands pressing his arms over his head, Shiro’s chest moving against his, Shiro’s thighs under his, Shiro’s tongue sliding along his ear, Shiro’s panting breaths against his skin. Shiro’s cock in his body pushing and pulling over and over, he was a slave to it, his every breath following the beat of Shiro’s heart. When Shiro pushed and pulled, Coran followed as if dragged along a wild river, and climax rushed over them both like a wave, drowning them both as it flung them over the edge of pleasure. Coran’s entire body locked up. He hadn’t cum like this in millennia. Shiro collapsed against him breathing hard, still pushing against him trying to make it last a few seconds longer; Coran wouldn’t say the same for him; but given they were in space, give or take a decade.

Shiro slid out of him, and moved aside to lay beside him. Coran stared at the ceiling; waiting for the pieces of him Shiro had taken to come back. They always had, with the few Alteans he’d slept with in the past. It struck him that Shiro wasn’t Altean, that it had been irresponsible for him to let this happen, and as he’d dreaded, those shards of himself, given freely in the search of pleasure, did not return.

“It’s never…been…” Shiro breathed, “It’s never been like _that.”_ He said, “Ever.”

Coran was still struggling to find words he was so unpracticed, it’d been such a long time he couldn’t think of what to say. And he used to be so suave too, a real killer in bed. But right now he felt so vulnerable, so lost. Shiro’s hand found his clenched in a fist, Shiro’s fingers slid gently over his curled fingers and unraveled them, sliding in between and staying there. Coran stared at the ceiling, at the dim light hovering over them. “We should get up,” Coran whispered, “Before someone finds us.”

Shiro chuckled, “I’ve been trying to get up this whole time, but…I can’t.”

“Perhaps our species isn’t compatible sexually…We should avoid this in the future.”

Shiro’s hand in his twitched, “I will try.”

Coran turned to look at him, “You’ll what?”

Shiro was flushed, and still devastatingly handsome, “You don’t want it, so I’ll try.” He closed his eyes and took a breath, opened them again and looked at Coran, “But if it’s like that every single time…is it?” he bit his lip, the air between them warmed, Shiro’s desire seemed to cloud the space between them, “Coran…is it? Because if it is I can try but I can’t promise you anything.”

Coran opened his mouth to speak, but before his thoughts could register he just said, "Yes, and only with me.” He stopped himself and struggled to sit up pulling his hand out of Shiro’s, he pulled his pants back on and struggled to stand, his entire body still locked, still twitching, the warmth of Shiro’s cum sliding down his thighs, he struggled with the desire to do it all again. “We will not be doing this again, now please, get up and change out of that damn shirt.”

Shiro sat up, looking refreshed rather than shaken, rather than anything Coran was dealing with. He stood up with little difficulty and Coran watched him. It is rather like watching a gift jump out of your grasp and wrap itself back up again. He slid his shirt back down over his chest and looked at Coran, “I thought you liked me tight shirts.”

“Don’t try me boy.” Coran snarled before stomping angrily down the hall, as soon as he was out of sight he had to slow down, the ache in his hips, the exhausting deep in his bones, he needed to get some sleep. He was too damn old for this.


End file.
